Joe Toye on VJ Day
by Luckynumber28
Summary: Ida didn't want the wounded combat veteran getting into a losing scuffle on her account. (one shot)


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this and mean no disrespect to the veterans the miniseries was based on. I was merely inspired by the era and the story as told by HBO.**

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**VJ Day, 1945  
****New York City**

Ida ignored the sailor as he sidled up to the bar. Leaning heavily on a hairy forearm, his breath damp with whiskey, he motioned to the bartender.

"Her drink is on me." He slurred, taking out a flask.

"No, thank you."

Glancing over her shoulder, Ida spotted her sister happily flirting with the GI who had asked her to dance. She wished Elsie would hurry up.

"What?" The sailor shifted his thick body, swaying purposefully against her shoulder, "You don't wanna drink with me, sweetheart? Drink to victory?"

Ida rose, "Please leave me alone."

"C'mon, honey. I just wanna make friends-" The drunk grasped her forearm and Ida tore it away.

The sailor closed the distance between them. Ida stumbled backwards. Now she was desperate for Elsie to return so they could go home. Tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, she dared a glance into the man's scruffy leer.

"I said no."

"Aw c'mon, just one-"

"_She said no_."

Ida's gaze whipped back to the bar. The dark individual, with whom she had avoided eye contact since arriving, swiveled towards them. There were several empty beer glasses in front of him but he looked better for it than her burly harasser.

"What was that?" The sailor demanded, rising to his full height.

The soldier tipped back the last swallow of beer, setting the glass on the counter firmly. His intense, coal black stare zeroed in on the drunk like a submarine scope.

"The girl said she doesn't want to drink with you." His rough accent rang of grit and Blue Collar living.

"Mind your own business, bub." The sailor snorted, trying to focus his blood shot eyes.

"Leave her alone."

Before Ida could say anything to diffuse the situation, the sailor stepped in front of her. The commotion had drawn attention. Ida felt Elsie's hand on her elbow drawing her back.

"What are you going to do about it anyway?" The man blustered, perching his fists on his hips, "Eh, Crip?"

For the first time, Ida's gaze was drawn to the man's legs. She hadn't noticed that he was missing one of them from the knee down. Her face grew warm with concern at the revelation. He was already smaller than the sailor. She didn't want a wounded, combat veteran getting into a losing scuffle on her account.

The soldier smirked. His eyes maintained their deadly attention as he glared down the sailor. He stood from the stool, balancing perfectly on his one good leg. The sailor barked out a laugh.

"Tough guy, huh? Even being half a man-"

Without warning, the soldier swung. Hitting him directly between the eyes, the Goliath collapsed hard onto the floorboards. One look at the man at her feet, Ida knew he was out cold. There was a cacophony of applause from the crowd. The winner didn't pay mind. Ida noticed him slip a pair of brass knuckles into the pocket of his uniform

"That was impressive." Elsie chuckled, "You should be flattered, Sis. Your honor has been defended quite effectively."

Ida gave a half laugh but her eyes were on the soldier. Deftly whipping around his one crutch, he tossed a couple bills on the counter. He didn't have the air of a man who won a fight hands down. There was a heaviness about him that Ida felt penetrate her own heart. He was too young to be so weighed down, though there were many young men in their new world that carried similar burdens.

Putting his cap on his head, the man left the bar without another word.

"Give me a second." Ida patted her sister on her shoulder and scooted through the crowd.

The streets outside were rowdy with celebration. The long awaited surrender of Japan had arrived and life could get back to normal. That seemed to be the sentiment held by many. However, Ida knew life would never be normal again. At least not the way it had been before Pearl Harbor.

"Wait," She called out, catching up with the soldier that she recognized as a paratrooper, "Please."

"You don't need to thank me, doll."

He swiftly made his way past the cavorting hordes of servicemen and women. Ida struggled to keep up.

"My name is Ida Hamilton-"

"That's great. Happy VJ Day."

"Please will you-"

"What do you want?" As he stopped hard, Ida nearly ran dead on into him, "I can't dance with you if that's what you were hoping."

Regaining her footing, she adjusted her hat and met his eyes. His angular face was drawn down in a mix of exhaustion and simmering anger. She paused, wondering why she had followed him in the first place.

"I guess I did want to thank you." She shrugged, breaking eye contact.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he let out a small sigh.

"Well, now you have." He replied in his distinct low growl.

Ida nodded compliantly and turned away, "Happy VJ Day."

She had wanted to say so much more.

She had wanted to tell him she appreciated all he had done. That she felt physical pain at the sight of his ravaged body and even more at the thought of the damage done to his soul.

She wanted to tell him that she understood his frustration. She saw it every day at the hospital in the faces of the men tucked into clean sheets; like wounded, caged animals without hope or direction.

She wanted to tell him about Johnny. About the simple letter her parents had received after D-Day. That her little brother's grave was on the other side of the ocean, so far from those who desperately loved and missed him.

Ida didn't know why she had wanted to talk to him so badly. Perhaps because she saw her own emptiness in his dark, vacant gaze.

It didn't matter what she had wanted to say. He wasn't willing to take her on, even for the evening. She couldn't blame him. If anything, the war had taught her that they were all very much alone in their own separate journeys.

"Ida?"

Pausing by the door to the bar, she glanced over her shoulder. The man was still standing there leaning on his one crutch. The walking traffic parted like the Red Sea as they passed around him.

"Was that your name?"

"Ida Hamilton."

"Joe Toye."

"It's nice to meet you, Joe."

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Would you want to get some coffee?"

"Yes." She let out her breath, "I would love to."

Perhaps, even if for just that day, they could be alone together.


End file.
